It Calls Me
by antics-of-an-author
Summary: Haeronwen, daughter of Thranduil faces hardship after losing her mother and sister at a young age. When she finally has enough of a palace life with a distant father and painful memories she makes the choice to leave all that she knows, trading her "glamorous" life for one of solitude far away from the palace. Here she finds herself... and an unexpected friendship. OC centered.
1. Birthday Gifts

**Chapter One**

I sit down at my desk and smooth the skirt of my white nightgown so I can sit more comfortably. Then I reach forward to the object laying on my desk. I move my fingers over the cover of the leather bound book. It's beautiful, marked with vines and leaves. The word "riel" is engraved into the material in gorgeous Tengwar letters. There is a sparrow in the top left corner, entangled in the foliage, and a feline that looks much like my own in the bottom right. I can tell by the articles used to create it that this particular diary is rather expensive. This actually brings a short smile to my usually downcast face. I do not care much for the price of things and it does not impress me, but the thought that my brother must have put into it warms my heart. The feeling is strange to me. I have not been happy for a while now. Years actually. Ever since the incident.

I brush my blond hair behind one of my tapered ears and open the book gently, as if it is made of glass and any sudden movements will shatter it, to the first blank page. I feel the smooth, clean, white parchment with my finger tips and smile softly to myself again. This too has become a foreign concept to me. I reach for my new quill pen – a stunning blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, red, and black feather from a bird I have never seen before – and then dip it into the open inkwell to my left. Then I begin - slowly, carefully - to write the following words.

_Today is my birthday but it does not feel special. The best thing that has happened so far is my receiving of the journal that I am currently writing in and for that Legolas deserves thanks. I enjoy writing down my feelings. It diverts any possible explosions, which is very good. Explosions signify that something is bothering me, which isn't allowed. But I can't help it. My life is stressful. You would think the life of a princess would be perfect, however mine is not. Maybe it is different for other princesses. _

_This has been the circumstance ever since my mother and sister left. My sister perished on a trip to Imladris. Because of this, my mother, whom witnessed this and was overcome by trauma, left for the Undying Lands. _

_My father has since then morphed into a very serious, hot-tempered, cold king who has a taste for nothing by work. He boards himself up in his study all day, hunched over paperwork at his desk. It's awful. He's never around, not even for this milestone birthday. I turned 1000 today. It's difficult to have a father that has nothing to do with you. I sometimes wonder if it would be better for me to have no father at all. He's nonexistent anyway, so what good it he to me? _

_My sentinel, Gondien, is no doubt beginning to get suspicious; I should probably blow out my candle and get some sleep. Or cry myself to sleep, rather. No, I will not shed any tears anymore. My mother once told me, a long time ago, that every being with the ability to cry has been granted a select number of tears which they will cry before they finally pass away. Some have been given more and some less, but each will bring forth every last one before they die or – in the case of an elf – find their place in the Undying Lands, whether they are all shed before their final breath or during. She said that no one but Ilúvatar himself knows exactly how many he gave each of us. I write that so that I may write this; I am getting rather used to my daily burden and I believe that I cried every tear I was given a long time ago. _

_-Princess Haeronwen_

And with that I put down my pen. However I leave the journal open so the ink will not smear. I do not want to take any chances of ruining my pristine penmanship. My handwriting took years to master and I take pride in it. It is one of the few things I happen to have left that cannot be taken from me. At least I hope.

I inhale deeply and then I place my shaking hands on the desk. Using my upper body strength I push down on the desk and get to my feet, hoisting myself up as I feel the traditional weight of grief on my shoulders. But just as I predicted no tears come. I really do believe what I wrote, that all my tears are gone.

I slip off my smooth, silver colored robe as I walk bare-foot to my bed. I hang the robe on one of the two posts at the foot of the large bed and climb into it seconds afterward. It feels empty, no longer having my twin sister to occasionally climb in beside me. Sometimes the tables would turn and it would be me who snuck across the hall into her room. We used to talk well into the night and trade stories back and forth. We would laugh, not cry, ourselves to sleep and when morning came we would go down to breakfast together, dressed in our matching nightclothes with our identical faces and smiles. A sharp pang in my chest reminds me of just how much I miss Lathronniel.

_It is her birthday today too,_ I think mournfully, _Why can't she be here?_

I would gladly give everything to have her back. I would do anything to see her again, to have my mother return to us, to see my father smile again. He never smiles anymore. I miss his smile.

I do not know how long I allow my mind to wander, all I know is that at some point my cat, Celeb, a gray and black tabby with white socks, climbs onto the bed and curls up beside me. He purrs and wraps his massive white paws protectively around my left arm. His grip is tight and comforting. Eventually I drift off to sleep in his embrace, secretly wishing that I might never wake again.

**Elvish Translations**

_Elvish word/phrase_

English translation**  
**

_Riel_

Princess


	2. A Touch of Friendship

**Chapter Two**

I awake to the sound of birds singing just outside my window. Light shines in through the drawn back curtains and I squint. I know that my handmaiden must have come in not too long ago to set up my things. Celeb has moved from his place at my side to right in front of my face. I can see his silver chest, rising and falling as he breathes.

"Mara aurë, mellon-nîn," I say softly. Slumber still has a small hold on me and my half lidded eyes make this apparent. I open them fully to find Celeb's big green orbs staring into my own blue eyes. He is so close to me that if I move the slightest bit I will be touching noses with him. He lets out a long "merrrrp!" and bats my face with his left paw.

"I'm awake," I assure him, "I'm awake." I sit up and escape the assault on my face but only for a moment. He hops onto my lap, purring and letting out odd noises. Celeb has never really been one to meow; he talks instead. Not like an elf, a human, a dwarf, or any of the other "intelligent" species in Middle Earth. He cannot form a full, intelligent sentence in Elvish, Dwarvish, or the common tongue. He instead has his own way of speaking. Certain sounds mean certain things. I have always enjoyed this about Celeb. It makes him feel like more than just a pet. He seems almost… elf-like.

"Are you hungry?" I ask my furry friend. He lets out another noise. This one sounds like a combination of a meow and a purr and I know that he is saying yes. "Allow me to dress first," I say and I glance at the end of my bed. Surely enough my handmaiden, Eilian, stands ready to assist me in dressing for the day. I am used to this and get up without a second thought.

"Good morning, Eilian," I call gently. Eilian has been somewhat of a friend to me over the past few years. She has recently become my helper; only a few centuries ago. But over that time she has become a very good friend. I know it isn't socially correct for a princess to be friends with a servant girl, but I lost my taste for the rules a long time ago.

"Good morning, Haeronwen," she says softly so no one will hear her but the two of us.

I have permitted Eilian to call me by my first name but if anyone else hears her they will consider it to be extremely disrespectful and punish her severely. Possibly even kill her. I know that nothing I say would spare her either. My brother's sentinel, Beinion, received a rather brutal lashing from my father for his "disrespect." I do not wish to see this happen to Eilian.

"Was your slumber pleasant?" she askes me as she comes to my bedside. My eyes have adjusted to the light and I can now see that she is cradling my outfit for the day; a forest green gown, one of my shifts, a glittering silver tiara, a pretty pendant, my light gray cape, a broach in the shape of a leaf, and black leather sandals that will surely lace all the way up to my knees when I put them on.  
I decide to save the groan that is poised, waiting in my throat, until I am actually dressed in the unpractical get up.

"Did you decide on this?" I inquire, gesturing to the bundle that she has begun to place on the foot of my bed. However I need no answer from her. I know she would never do this to me.

"No," she answers. "My mother did."

I should have known. "Very well," I sit up and force myself out of bed. "Allow the torture to begin."

Eilian giggles. "I wouldn't call it torture. You always look enchanting." I smirk at this remark. She too looks beautiful in her simple - yet stunning - pale green dress with her hair half up and half down. She would never believe me if I told her this though.

"It's pretty, I agree, but I do not care for fancy clothes. You of all people should know this," I answer as I begin to slide my nightgown over my head. The sleek, milky fabric is tossed to the floor is a heap a my feet. The chill air of the autumn morning cuts into me like a knife as soon as I remove my clothing. I hope that I will be covered up soon again.

She begins the rote routine of dressing me, grabbing my shift and helping me pull the floor length garmet over my head. I hate wearing it but I know I must. Next my dress is layered over the thin white fabric. I instantly recognize it as the dress given to me yesterday as a gift from my father.

_How thoughtful,_ I think sarcastically. The gown is pretty - a deep forest green with silver accents and sleeves that are very loose and flowing - but I have received similar presents from the king for every year worth celebrating since Miriel and Lathronniel were lost to us. It seems that His Highness only cares to put forth the bare minimum effort possible and even that is burdensome for him.

I snap back to the current happenings and notice that my gown is form-fitting and flattering. It gently hugs my hips and waist to accentuate my hourglass figure.

Eilian notices my expression and chuckles. "It's a bit..."

"Much?"

Eilian nods.

I happen to agree. It is unpractical for the events I have planned for today. The dress will make archery, a usually easy sport for me, more arduous and my private (or secret, rather) sword fighting lesson with Legolas and Beinion will be utterly impossible. I don't want to be stuck reading and sewing all day.**  
**

So after about a minute of thought I look at Eilian in determination. "I have a better idea."

"Riel-nin?" Eilian's face contorts into a confused expression. I can tell by the use of the title and the tone of her voice that someone is passing by in the hall.

"Come." I make my way to the large wardrobe in one corner of my bedroom. This particular piece of furniture happens to be Lathronniel's. I have always admired the hard, dark wood, the heavy doors carefully engraved with pictures, the forest aroma. Yes, I had one exactly like this years ago but this one is full of memories. It is the same closet that my twin sister and I sat in on many an occasion when we didn't want to be found. I have been confronted numerous times about getting rid of the piece and replacing it with something newer, but I have refused each time. This was my sisters and I will never part with it.

"Haeronwen?" Eilian repeats. I can tell that she is intrigued by - and a little fearful of - my intentions.

"Would you care to assist me in choosing an outfit that will better suit my day's activities?" I ask her, a grin spreading across my face. I am very serious about this too.

Eilian tries to stop the smile that is beginning to show but fails at her attempt. I can tell what she is thinking. She is wondering whether or not she should join me in my rebellion. I watch her silently and my smile grows bigger each second until she can't take it anymore. With a slight chuckle of both amusement and exasperation she says, "oh, fine."

"I am glad you decided to join me," I say as I fling open the doors of the wardrobe. I riffle through the clothes, showing Eilian each one as I go. She compliments on them, but none of the pretty garments meet the standards of the two of us.

It takes a while but we eventually decide on a silvery-blue tunic, black leggings, simple leather hunting boots, and a belt to hold my ever present dagger. I cannot carry my sword for fear of what my father would do but I deem the ability to protect myself very important so I conceal a small knife in my everyday wear.

Eilian helps me remove the outfit I am currently wearing and change into the new clothes. The tunic and leggings are easier to move in and much more comfortable than my dress. I must admit that I prefer this. I have never been one for dresses. In my opinion they make every day activities slightly more trying and leave me more vulnerable.

I add my mother's necklace, shaped like a golden rose with a small white gem in the middle. I am never without this piece even if it doesn't match the rest of my outfit. This is as elaborate as my outfit gets. I am now ready to go about my day. Most importantly I am ready for my sparring session. But before I head out I must do one more thing. Something to show my gratitude.

"Hantale, mellon-nîn," I say gently. I lay a hand on Eilian's arm and smile. A touch of friendship. She will never replace my sister but she is as close to a true friend as I will most likely ever be.

**Elvish Translation**

_Mara aure  
_

Hello

_Mellon-nîn_

My friend

_Hantale_

Thanks_  
_


	3. You Fight Like A Girl

Hey guys. *shy wave* I am _so_ sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I was at camp last week, and didn't have the time to write until now. I stayed up past 3 am to get this finished for you, so I hope you feel special ;)

Anyway, here is where some more of the drama starts. Any reviews are greatly appreciated. I like to be critiqued. Thank you so much for reading!

-CS7

(Oh, I finally figured out how the do the lines to separate my author's notes, the story, and the Evlish translations. I know, I am a bit slow to be figuring this out just now, but it excites me nonetheless. Anyhoo, enjoy!)

* * *

_I cannot help but miss my sister, especially now. I am very reminiscent. I cannot keep myself from feeling this way. The visit to my wardrobe with Eilian today opened up my heart and it is pouring crimson memories, full of regret and longing. Why was I chosen to be the bearer of this burden? Why were my twin and my mother taken from me? Why did my father have to distance himself from his family? Why was it Legolas and I that raised my little brother and sister? Why couldn't their parents do their job? So many questions swirl about in my head and there is not an answer in sight._

_I am hopeful that my sparring lesson might relieve some of my burden from me. That it might lift my spirits. Physical activity such as this seems to do that for me. I have little doubt that it will fail me again. _

"Haera!" Legolas calls and I snap my head up. My eldest brother is standing in the doorway of my bedroom, leaning against the frame. His blond hair is pulled into a style that is half up and half down. I can see his sword in sheath, hanging from his belt. He is also wearing simple hunting boots, a deep green tunic, and black pants.

"Are you coming?" he asks me, his azure eyes twinkling. "We have been waiting for you."

I nod. "Tancave, goheno nin. I just… felt compelled to write, so I came back to my room after breakfast," I close my diary and stroke it's textured cover.

"Ú-moe edhored," Legolas replies kindly. "Coming?"

I don't reply but instead just push my chair back and get to my feet. I leave my journal behind, lying closed on the desk beside my inkwell and pen. On the way out I am sure to grab my broadsword. The beautiful, long blade is waiting for me a few inches away from Legolas' feet. I also grab hold of my bow and quiver of arrows, which are both slung onto my back, before I am finally ready to leave.

We make our way through the halls of the palace. Past the sleeping quarters, sitting areas, banquet halls, and the throne room. The last area is particularly difficult, as we have to creep by without being seen. Faeron is the only exception to that rule. He is one of the palace guards, namely of the throne room, and he puts up with my antics. He knows that I train in secret and Legolas, Beinion, and myself together convinced him not to tell a soul. Through the course of the years he has become a trusted ally and friend.

As we pass I see Faeron just outside the door and he smiles at the pair of us. I smile back and wave in a friendly manner. Then I silently ask him a question, using only my facial expressions and brief body movements. It says, "Is he in there?"

The "he" I am referring to is undoubtedly my father.

Faeron, who has by now gotten our inaudible language down to a science, nods in answer and rolls his eyes. I take this to mean that my father is working, as per usual.

I mouth a word of thanks and continue to move before the other sentinel gets suspicious. I know he is, even if he doesn't say anything. It rather amuses me, actually.

When we reach the sparring arena Beinion is already there waiting for us. He looks up and grins. "Are you prepared to attempt to win, Your Highness?" he asks teasingly.

My depression melts away at the sight of his happy face and I can't help but feel joyful inside. "Beinion, you wish I would simply attempt," I banter back. This is what I look forward to each day. This is why I wouldn't be able to bear it if Thranduil finds out about my training.

"I do wish you would at least attempt. It doesn't seem like you are even doing that," Beinion knows how much he can get away with and he is pushing the limit. Typically this would annoy me but it has taken Beinion a long time to get this comfortable around Legolas and I and I am glad that he finally feels that he can joke around with us.

"You will regret those words, Beinion," I hiss playfully. I am feigning anger and frustration and he knows it. I never get angry with him. Ever. Beinion is my closest friend and I don't know what I would do without him.

Beinion chuckles and his emerald green eyes shimmer with impish delight. His eyes remind me of my mother's. "You, mellon-nîn, are far too arrogant for your own good."

"I believe that you have too little faith in me," I retort.

"We shall see," Beinion leans upon the hilt of his sword. The tip of the blade is resting on the floor and he appears to be using the weapon as some sort of a cane. This amuses me and he must see the smirk that spreads across my face because his own mock-rigid expression melts into a grin.

"Why not make good on your threat?" Legolas taunts both of us. Or so I assume. Maybe he is just challenging me, or just Beinion. I don't know. Either way I am ready to take the challenge.

"I don't want to hurt you," Beinion explains. I sense some trace of seriousness in his tone and can't help but be curious.

"You won't," I assure him. "Just think of me as a fellow student in your class. If it helps," I walk over to the sidelines and take up one of the fine – heavy – helmets that are used for practice, "I will wear this."

Beinion shakes his head. "That won't be needed."

"Very well then," I say with a smirk. "Shall we?"

We each take up our weapons and circle each other. Our stances are defensive and ready to strike at any moment. The first move is made by Beinion. I don't usually like to initiate things when I duel but instead prefer someone else to start. I am more comfortable with this strategy.

The next thing I know I am parrying blows as they come. He swings down at my legs and I quickly lower my sword and block the potentially painful hit. He slides his sword off mine and swings up, intending to bring it down upon my shoulder. I know he won't hurt me purposely but this still makes my heart race and I react swiftly.

I bring my blade up above my head and his catches it with a loud clang. My strong arms have done a good job of keeping the other weapon away and I shoot Beinion a cocky grin.

Our blades are now locked and I only know of one move to free me of this. I twirl around and under our swords, sliding mine against his.

_Why shouldn't I try to preform a fancy stunt_, the reckless side of me whispers inside my mind. I usually push this voice away and allow the meek, mouse-like part of me win out. It almost always wins. But this time I see no harm in following my intrepid impulses. _After all, it's only a sparring match. What could go wrong?  
_

Nothing. Nothing can possibly go wrong.

So without further hesitation I slash my sword at Beinion's left side. He quickly blocks it with a downward facing blade and I catch a glimpse of shock in his eyes. There is also an admiration and pride present in his emerald irises and a rascally smile spreads across his face, egging me on.

It works, as I make my next move. I make a full turn to the right and make an attempt at his other side but he again catches this blow before it can be made. Our weapons are now locked tightly together and we stare into each others eyes as we try to get an inkling of our opponent's next move. Beinion shows no signs and this stirs up a small amount of frustration inside my being. It is important for me to have the ability to read others, and this is not currently being granted to me.

My spontaneity causes me to make a daring - and possibly dangerous - move. I slide the glittery silver thief of life downwards in a swift motion and slice the bottom section of Beinion's right fingers open. Not enough to cause a major wound, but enough to shed a bit blood.

The sentinel lets out a cry of alarm and loses his grip with the injured hand. I, seeing my opportunity, twirl my blade about his and send it flying from his other hand. He stares at me in utter amazement. Then a tinge of pain and betrayal seeps into his gaze.

I pant and horror fills me as I realize what I have done. I have brought forth another elf's blood. No, I haven't killed anyone, but blood! I have spilled the crimson foundation of life.

I hear Legolas clapping from behind me but I tune it out as I try to fight my initial shock.

"I - I am so sorry," I stutter. "I didn't mean - "

Beinion's injured kitten facade fades instantly and he lunges for me, tackling me to the ground.

I am taken aback, to say the least, but quickly react. In my astonishment I have dropped my item of defense and I am now forced to fight back physically. There is no way I will win this battle. Beinion is lean, agile, and very strong. He doesn't look the part of a muscular warrior but he is. Besides that, he is skilled in the technique portion of hand-to-hand combat. When you pair expertise with power...

I, on the other hand, am lithe as well but lacking in strength and prowess. This is one area in which I have had little practice. I now regret my neglect of this field as I roll around on the floor of the sparring arena.

Beinion obviously has the upper hand in this fight; this would be evident for any bystander. However that does not keep me from trying. I am stubborn I won't give up easily.

Even if he pins me within a few seconds of getting me to the ground, his hands holding my wrists to the floor, body on top of mine.

The both of us are panting like wild dogs after I finally stop my struggling. I realize that there is no escape for me.

"What was that," Beinion puffs, "about me regretting my words?"

It takes me a little longer to catch my breath but when I do I answer, "you win."

A wicked smile spreads across Beinion's face. A full mouth, toothy grin. "I told you so."

I shoot a blast of air into his face in defiance.

"My, that's attractive."

Something about the way he says it makes me blush and squirm. Maybe it is the teasing tone he used. Or maybe it's the way it rang with truth. A princess shouldn't blow on someone's face as it is rather rude.

Or maybe it's the way his jaded eyes twinkled when he said it.

I notice Beinion's already flushed face redden a bit more and he rolls off me, get to his feet, and offers me assistance with his good hand. I gratefully accept and grab his wrist. He wraps his fingers around my own smaller one and pulls me to my feet.

I cannot help but note the fact that he held on just a few seconds more the necessary before finally breaking contact.

* * *

**Elvish Translations**

_Tancave_

Yes

_Goheno nin_

Forgive me

_Ú-moe edhored_

There is nothing to forgive


	4. Target Practice

A/N: Okay, there was one detail in this chapter that I didn't like, so I fixed it. Chapter 5 to come soon. Sorry for the hiatus. Also, sorry for the change in pen name. I happen to like my new one better though.

-Antics

* * *

"You did beautifully, Haera," Legolas tells me as he picks up Beinion's sword. It had fallen a few paces from him during our duel.

"Hantale," I reply as I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. It feels warm and sticky. I quickly move to grab a cool cloth from the water basin on the sidelines. It is kept there to benefit any elves that decide to have a go in the arena, and it really is a pleasure.

My delicate hands reach into the dish of newly poured water and cup them to make a bowl. I close my eyes and throw the water in my hands at my face. It feels wonderful.

When I open my eyes Beinion is standing right in front of me. He's holding a freshly dampened cloth out to me, almost like one would give a peace offering. I gratefully take it and give him a smile of appreciation. I place it on the back of my neck knowing that is the place it will be most affective.

"Are your fingers alright?" I ask tenderly.

He nods. "Yes, fine. Just a little, uh, scratched up." He shrugs his shoulders and the right corner of his mouth turns up a bit.

I glance down at the injury and flinch. I know it isn't bad, but where I cut him the skin is thin and it bleeds a lot. I bite my tongue nervously. "I hope you won't need stitches, mellon-nîn."

Beinion chuckles. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."

"It might be."

"I highly doubt it."

"You never know. You could bleed to death."

Beinion playfully pushes my shoulder. "Oh, stop being a mother hen."

"It's my nature!" I retort. After all, I did practically raise my two younger siblings, Suiadan and Culwen. Wouldn't it only make sense that I can be over-protective and worried?

Legolas joins us, arms crossed and tsking mischievously. "Muinthel, we really must break you of that awful habit."

"_Awful_?" I echo. "How is that awful?"

Legolas chortles and I shove him.

"Daro i," I huff.

"Oh, I just love teasing you. You know that." My brother tousles my hair and I squeak.

"Gwanûr!"

"What?"

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what? This?" Legolas lunches for me and before I can react efficiently he has wrapped one arm firmly around my waist and is tousling my hair with his free hand.

I let out an awkward sound that is somewhat of a combination between a squeak and a yelp. My cheeks flush when I realize the noise I have made.

I turn around and try to retaliate but the hold Legolas has on me is too strong. He has me hoisted up onto his shoulder in seconds.

"Legolas!" I shriek as he begins to spin in an attempt to make me dizzy. Well, it works. Not only on me but on him as well. Legolas loses his balance and we tumble to the ground in a heap, I on top of him, a tangled mess.

For a moment there is silence, then Beinion bursts into giggles. The almost feminine sound is infectious and Legolas and I both begin to laugh. There is no fighting it. Beinion's laughter has always had this affect on us. It's an amusing, odd, and yet attractive sound (though not as weird as my own earlier outburst) that gets even the most serious of folk to join in. There was a time that Beinion began to laugh in the throne room because of something foolish I had done and my father, stony-faced and stern as he is, began to snicker.

Laying in a heap, laughing like madmen, forgetting our worries. This is why I love Beinion. For all the laughs and the smiles he has brought to my family. For the way he hugs Culwen and spins her around to make her giggle. For the way he treats Suiadan - like younger brother by blood. For the way he even brings a smile to Thranduil's face, though he would never admit it. Beinion has become another brother to this broken kindred and I can't imagine what life would be like without him by our side.

})i({

I notch another arrow into the string of my bow and raise the delicately crafted weapon. My left hand holding the bow at the curve, steady and unwavering, my right pulling back the string. My first two fingers, index and middle, are gently wrapped around the end of the arrow just below the feather fletching. I position the end of the shaft near the right corner of my mouth, make sure my feet are the correct distance apart, put my shoulders back and my chest out, and straighten my elbow and wrist. I close my eyes and let myself melt into a memory of what used to be.

_"Keep your elbow down a bit more. If it is up too high you will miss your target, Iell," Nana whispers in my ear as she gently pressed my elbow down so it's not up so high. "Like this."  
_

_"Like this?" I ask, straightening the hand that wraps around the smooth, engraved wood that is my mother's bow.  
_

_She smiles at me. "Exactly like that. Now, get ready. Take aim."  
_

_I close one of my eyes.  
_

_"No, no, no, don't do that!" my mother exclaims in a hushed tone. Both eyes open.  
_

_I tentatively open my eyes and focus on my target, a small rabbit.  
_

_"Easy does it. Take a deep breath. Focus."  
_

_I close my eyes for a second and breathe deeply. When I open them I exhale, make sure I am aiming in the right direction, and loose my arrow.  
_

_A cry of pain from the tiny creature and it falls to the ground. I gasp and try to contain my excitement but to no avail._

_"Nana! Nana, I did it! Did you see that?"_

_My mother is laughing kindheartedly. "Yes, I did. Well done, Iell-nîn."  
_

_I am jumping up and down now. "Shall we go get it?"  
_

_My mother lifts me up, hugging me tight, and spins me around. I squeal and giggle.  
_

_"Yes, we shall. Come."  
_

I open my eyes and come back to reality. Taking aim, I release my grip on the arrow.

My arrow finds it mark, right in the center of the target. I smile in satisfaction. Yes, I always meet my mark and this is nothing new, but it still makes me smile every time. I feel like I can accomplish something. I feel like I am making my mother proud.

I glance over at Legolas, who is doing just as well, if not better than me. I believe that the ability to shoot is in my blood. My father is handy with a bow, but my mother... oh, my mother. She had a gift. She could shoot a deer at any distance and pierce the heart. The shots were so clean it was almost unreal. She was the one who taught and inspired my older brother and I to shoot.

After she left for the Valinor I stopped practicing archery for a while. It was too painful to engage in my mother's favorite activity. Too many memories of the days we spent alone together in the forest would surface. The times when we would talk for hours, sitting in a tree or behind a bush. The days Legolas would join us and we would bring as many as three games bags home full.

Now I am back at it. I have found that I much prefer to shoot than not. It's very relaxing and can calm me down better than anything else. It doesn't really matter what I am shooting or why, so long as I have a bow in my hand and a quiver of arrows on my back.

I decide to look around again and assess my friendly competition once again. Beinion, who is to my left, is fairing nicely as well despite his bad hand. He might not be as good as Legolas but he is still very deft with a bow and could hold his own in a fight if that was all he was given to work with.

I notice my friend getting ready to shoot and I quickly load my own bow. I'm confident in my abilities and I am sure that I can do what I'm about to attempt, but if for some reason I miss I'll look like an absolute fool. I go over the steps in my head. Wrist straight, shoulders back, chest out, fingers loose. Instead of watching the target I look to Beinion's hand. I let my arrow fly a split second after he does to ensure that I get the timing absolutely correct, and I do. Just before his shaft reaches the target mine hits it and drags it off its course and to the ground.

Perfect.

Beinion turns to glare at me and I can't help but snicker at his frustration.

"Haera!'

I shrug, return my focus back to my own target, and resume shooting. Out of the corner of my eye I see Beinion smiling broadly and my stomach turns, suddenly uneasy. There is something weird in his expression.

"Show off."

Again I load my bow and as I am about the release my grip and let the string snap forward Legolas quietly says something that causes me to jerk.

"Nana used to do that to Ada when they went shooting together."

The implication of what he has said hits me and I miss the target completely.

* * *

**Elvish Translations**

_Muinthel_

Sister

_Daro i_

Stop that

_Gwanûr_

Brother

_Iell_

Daughter_  
_

* * *

A/N: For those of you who are hoping for a certain pairing, I know things look like they are currently going in the opposite direction but be patient with me. I have the entire story mapped out in my head. Please don't stone me!

I am hoping to have the next chapter up a week from today, so hold tight.

Reviews are much appreciated :)


	5. Preparations

A/N: Back to writing. Sorry if this sucks. I'm sort of trying to squeeze stuff out so I can get to the good stuff.

R&R is appreciated. :3

-Antics

* * *

It's a few hours later, and I am back to where I started my day - in my quarters, cleaning myself up and dressing. After my many activities I've gotten a bit dirty, and with a banquet to attend in a few hours, I need to get all the grime off my skin. I scrub hard at the sweat and dirt on my arm with a bar of soap that Eilian has placed on the side of the tub. It produces a good lather and I rub it in. Even though I like getting dirty, I like the feeling of being clean.

Eilian comes behind the screen with a steaming pot of water in one hand and a clean towel draped over one arm. She sets the towel on the small table to the left of me and slowly pours the water into the tub to add to the liquid already surrounding me.

"Ow!" I hiss as my skins comes into contact with the boiling water.

"Sorry," Eilian apologizes. "It's hot."

I chuckle. "No, not at all."

Eilian rolls her emerald eyes at me and asks, "Are you ready for me to wash your hair, m'lady?"

I nod and let down my pale tresses. The fall in waves around my shoulders and the ends dampen in the water. I've always been fascinated with how water can darken my hair. Once, when I was younger, I asked my mother why it happened.

"Magic," she had said, and I had believed her.

Now as my hand maiden douses my hair I softly smile at the thought. It's been centuries now since she left us, but every memory still brings forth a bittersweet feeling.

Eilian cleans my hair, working soap into my scalp and rinsing it, and then helps me out of the tub. She hands me a towel and as I dry off she fetches my outfit for the evening. The first thing on is a brassiere, then a slip. I step into it and Eilian laces it up to fit me perfectly. The gown itself looks like it is two layers, with an under layer of white and a silver-blue outer dress that looks almost like a sort of robe. However it is all one piece. There is a crisscrossing gray cord which ties in the front, almost like a corset, that is laced through the silver fabric under the bust. The sleeves are an open trumpet style, and the fabric nearly sweeps the floor. It really is a beautiful dress.

"Who was the gown from?" I ask as Eilian tightens the corset that she has placed over the slip. "Not too tight."

"I know," Eilian replies, and she does. I just like to say it. Why I even need a corset is beyond me. In response to my question, she says, "Lord Túrsidhion. He does have an eye for beauty."

I cringe at the name. I grew up beside Túrsidhion, and for a while, we were very good friends. Now he has grown rather arrogant and consumed with the matters of the court. He has followed in the footsteps of his father and has become a very influential politician. Now he's so uptight and just awful to be around, so we've grown apart as friends. Now he spends every chance he gets trying to sweep me off my feet.

Eilian chuckles. "I'm sorry, m'lady. His Majesty requested that you wear it tonight."

Of course he did. The relationship between my father and Túrsidhion is the same from both sides - they both live to please the other. For Túrsidhion it's to keep his position in court and continue to work his way up, and for my father is to gain the favor of the young politician in any decisions made. I find the whole thing disgusting really.

"Well then," Eilian slides the dress over my head and ties front. "All done. You look absolutely stunning, as always."

I smile at her because I know she's not just saying it. There's an honesty in her voice that I have learned to detect over years of her faithful service.

"Now, time for you hair," she says kindly as she reaches for a brush. She talks to me the whole time she styles, but I don't really hear her. I'm too busy staring into the mirror as I watch my personality slip away just like it does before every social gathering I attend.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was pretty short, but oh well. More to come in the next chapter. It will also be much more interesting. Hopefully I'll finish and post it by tonight.


	6. An Unpleasant Surprise

A/N: Okay, this is the part that actually gets good. Finally. R&R is appreciated.

* * *

"Lord Vanafindon," I greet as I am approached by a silver haired guest, "welcome. How have you been?" It is customary to be polite and hospitable to each and every guest that attends, even if I know nothing about them, which happens to be the case at the moment.

"I'm fairing quite well, thank you. I must say, you look quite stunning this evening, my lady," Lord Vanafindon articulates. His smile seems fake, almost like my own. I wonder if he would rather be in alone in his room or go for a ride through the forest. Maybe he likes these gatherings. Who knows?

"Hantale," I give a polite curtsy. "I do hope you enjoy your night."

"I am certain I will." He takes my hand and kisses it, winks one glittering eye, and departs.

"He was rather flirtatious," a voice from behind me utters.

I turn to see Túrsidhion grinning at me, green eyes glimmering charmingly. He wears a handsome green and gold tunic, darker green leggings, and brown boots. His golden hair is worn half up, a traditional fashion in the kingdom of Mirkwood. I must admit, he looks very attractive and any other maiden would be fawning over him right now. I probably would be too if I didn't know him so well.

"He wasn't lying though," he continues. "You are absolutely radiant."

I turn away from him and sigh, "Thanks to you, my lord." I hold out my right arm to show off on ae flowing sleeve and then let it return to my side once again. I catch my father's eye from across the room. He looks at me, then to Túrsidhion, then back to me as if to urge me to talk to him. I narrow my eyes in distaste, but do so anyway. "You don't disappoint either."

He circles around and comes to stand in front of me. "I know. And that circlet," he moves a wave of my hair to get a better glimpse of the silver piece, "it is an enchanting accent to the gown and your beauty."

Now who's being flirtatious?

"You are a vision, my lady. May I have this dance?"

I hesitate a moment but when I glance at my father I realize that I can't turn him down, but I suppose it won't be too bad. The song is lively and fun, full of light instruments and major chords.

"Of course," I bow slightly and he takes my hand to lead me to the middle of the room where a large group of elves are dancing. They've begun a traditional dance to this particular party song, so we wait for the right moment to join in and remain in step. Off a little ways is a group of small children skipping in a circle and laughing. They look so happy, and I can't help but wish that was me.

_"Haera, come dance with me!" Lathronniel giggles and drags 50 year old me to the area where the other children were jumping around. She spins me around with her and laughs loudly. _

_"You're going to fast!"_

_"No I'm not. You're going too slow."_

I'm broken away from my memory by a tug from Túrsidhion and the next thing I know we are dancing along with the rest of the guests. I count to myself. One and two and three and four and... I move accordingly with each beat of the music.

"So, are you excited for the big announcement tonight?" Túrsidhion inquires after a ball-change.

I take a step to the right and give him a quizzical look. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, the king didn't tell you?" For a moment my partner actually looks taken aback by my remark.

I cock my head slightly to the right as I always do when I am confused. "Obviously not. Care to enlighten me?"

On the next beat we step together, palms touching, then take a step back. I take one step to the right and now my left hand is touching the palm of his left. We quickly circle one another, then skip, and switch of hands to do the same thing.

"If he did not tell you then I do not think that I should," his voice is low and smooth.

Túrsidhion stops moving and I sidestep around him - step left, cross right over left, repeat - until I am back in front of him. Here he spins me to face him and pulls me close. "However, I am certain that you will be well pleased," he purrs into my ear.

I shiver and pull away. "I'll be the judge of that." I bow as the music ends and walk to the safety of the outer crowd, where I find Legolas and roughly drag him behind a large marble pillar.

"Ow, ow, Haera, stop! What are you doing? You're going to draw unwanted attention."

I don't care. "Do you know about Ada's announcement?"

His brow furrows and he turns his head slightly to the left. "What announcement?"

"Túrsidhion said that there was a 'big announcement' that should make me happy. Do you know anything about it?"

"No," my brother insists. "I'm just as clueless as you are."

I cross my arms over my breast. "I wonder what it's about."

Legolas smirks. "Perhaps it's to draw attention to how fantastic I look in this outfit?" As an added jest he turns for me to show off his tunic silver and green tunic.

I laugh and shake my head in mock disapproval. "Muindor, you are helplessly vain."

He shrugs. "You rubbed off on me."

I crack a half smile. "I'm the younger sibling. It should be you who rubs off on me."

"Your personality is so obnoxiously strong that it's impossible not to be influenced by you."

I playfully shove his shoulder and grin widely. "Oh, shut up."

"Ow, you hit me," Legolas fakes a childlike pout. "I'm going to go cry."

I shake my head, "You are too much." I need this though. I can always count on Legolas to put a smile on my face. A genuine smile too, not something fake. It's always been like this, even before the accident. Nana said that from the day I was born I took to Legolas, and the moment I could laugh it was Legolas who could get me to do so. The two of us have always had a very strong bond and we grew even closer after Lathronniel died and Nana left. Legolas is my best friend, and I don't think I could make it if anything happened to him.

A palace attendant appears around the pillar and instantly snaps at us for attention. "There you two are! His Majesty is going insane looking for you. He want sot begin dinner but needs you to be at the table. Get a move on, both of you."

My brother I exchange a look of exasperation and scurry off to the head table, where my father sits in his chair of honor at the center of the long table. Legolas has been seated at his right, and I to the right of him. Then our younger brother Suidan and sister Culwen. To the king's left is his chief adviser, Túrsidhion, and a few other members of the court.

Legolas and I take our seats and avoid the icy stare that we are currently receiving from our father for keeping him waiting for so long. A good portion of the guests have taken notice of our table and have already begun to make their ways to their tables and Ada stands up to direct everyone else as the music fades away.

"If everyone would please find their seats, we will begin dinner in a few moments. First, however, I have an announcement to make," father's voice booms throughout the entire banquet hall and reaches the ears of every elf present. He looks to Túrsidhion and nods. The politician wordlessly pushes back his chair and gets to his feet. I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this.

"It is no secret that Lord Túrsidhion is a very distinguished and successful elf, and at such a young age. He is very wise and selfless in every endeavor - "

I roll my eyes.

"- and he is my most trusted and loyal court member. I can never repay him for the deeds that he has done for this kingdom, but I can try. It is my great honor to entrust him with my greatest treasure," he motions to me, "my daughter, Haeronwen."

His words hit me like a blow to the chest and suddenly I can't breathe. Everything is in slow motion and I feel like am underwater for a second while I process what he has just said. He's giving me to Túrsidhion? What? He can't possibly be serious, can he?

The crowd is clapping and cheering like they just heard the most miraculous news, and Túrsidhion is beaming. He takes a bow and addresses the king loudly enough to be heard over the commotion. "Thank you very much, Your Majesty. It is a great honor to be welcomed into your royal family."

No. This can't be happening. No. Never. No no no no no. My head is spinning and I can't get a grip on this situation. I can't be married. Not to Túrsidhion. Not now. I'm not ready to be a wife and certainly not to _him_.

How could my father have left me out of this? Why did he wait until now to tell me, along with everyone else? How did that... that _slime_ know before I did? I feel like I'm going to vomit.

When I am finally more aware of my surroundings I realize that all eyes are on me. They're all waiting for my cheerful word, for my approval. They're all hoping for something that they will never have.

Instead of saying anything I stand up and run from the table, gown flowing behind me, through the pillars the doors. I hear my name being called but I don't pay attention. I don't care, and I don't stop.

* * *

Yay, another chapter done. Now I can finally sleep. The next chapter might be up tomorrow. Hopefully. Well, actually it is sort of tomorrow... But you know what I mean. Okay, well, goodnight and thank you all for reading. R&R is appreciated!

-A


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